


Blame It On The Aliens

by ranchelle



Series: The Supernatural, Paranormal, Aliens, and Conspiracies Exploration Club [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: #matt&glosshiro, #otpaper, Abandonment Issues, Alien Abduction, Allura and Pidge are the true team leaders, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard, Conspiracy Theories, Crack, It's all make-believe, Keith is a very special snowflake, Keith's Conspiracy Board, Keith's Desert Shack, M/M, Matt is a hyperactive squirrel, Occult, Paranormal, Pidge may be the youngest but Keith is the real baby of the team here, Shiro and Matt are sickeningly in love, Slice of Life, Supernatural - Freeform, YouTube, former secret agents, fortune teller allura, hypnagogic/hypnopompic hallucinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranchelle/pseuds/ranchelle
Summary: "Is my brother...?" asks Pidge.Shiro turns the phone back to him and she sees a metal arm tightly gripping Matt's. Matt is undeniably drunk.She makes a frustrated sound and pulls at her hair. "Why are you at a bar? You both know he's a total mess when he drinks.""We just came in here to buy some food. I swear on my left arm he didn't drink. I just—We didn't realise there was alcohol in those tourist chocolates he bought at the airport. And he ate the whole box.""You're in a bar. Matt's drunk on tourist chocolates. You left the country /without telling Keith/."*Shiro is kidnapped by aliens and Keith is dead set on getting him back. He's got his trusty conspiracy board up in the SPACE club's clubroom and he won't rest until Shiro's found.AKA Shiro makes the mistake of not telling Keith he's leaving the country and the rest of the team has to deal with the mess.





	Blame It On The Aliens

  
A taxi rolls up to Shiro and the backseat door opens.

"Get in the car, Shiro," comes an eager voice from within. "We're going on a trip."

"Matt, what are you—"

A skinny hand darts out and pulls Shiro into the taxi.

"You want to go? Now?" says Shiro as Matt reaches over his lap and closes the door.

"To the airport, please," chirps Matt and the driver gives a grunt and the taxi moves off.

"We need to book tickets and pack our luggage," says Shiro, his brows raised in amusement. "We have to get your brace—"

"Aliens wait for no human, motherflicker. A bad knee won't stop me," says Matt, flashing their passports in his hand as he bounces in his seat.

"Okay, okay," says Shiro, taking out his phone. "Let me call up my agent to fix up our travel insurance. We'll need to grab some things at the airport too."

"It's all done," shrugs Matt. "The luggage is in the boot and our flight's in two hours."

"What? When did you plan this?"

"Allura's tarot reading said ' _You will travel far and meet tall, dark, strangers,_ ' I bet it means we're gonna find aliens or cryptids. I got the tickets, checked the calendar and packed our luggage."

"You planned this since _last month_?" says Shiro, incredulous. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I was so busy packing I forgot."

"Wait, I need to give Keith a call," says Shiro and his face dropped when he realises his phone's dead. "Matt, let me borrow your phone."

"I forgot to charge my phone too," says Matt.

"Oh no," says Shiro.

  
*

  
Keith storms into the clubroom, his brows knit and his shoulders raised like a man on a grave mission. He walks up to the wide blackboard—an obsolete toy Pidge installed on a whim so they could play with chalks—and slaps a roll of paper over it, holding it in place with tape.

He begins with pasting a photo of Shiro and Matt smiling at the camera in the centre of the board, and scribbles ' _MISSING'_  with a thick red marker on top of it. He keeps at it for an hour, filling the board with sticky notes and articles he prints off the net.

He fixes coloured strings between the articles with a bit of sticky tack. The last time he tried to pin a summoning chart to the board, Pidge told him if he used thumbtacks on it, she'd use thumbtacks on _him_.

He takes two steps back and rests his hip against a large table, folding his arms and scans the board, trying to see if he missed anything. He slaps his hands on his cheeks. He's losing focus since he stayed up all night waiting for Shiro.

The door creaks open and Pidge walks in, laptop and bag under one arm as she slides a knuckle under her glasses to rub at her eyes.

"Mornin'," she mumbles as she pulls out a chair with a foot and scatters her stuff on the table. She flops over the dining-turned-conference-table and leans her head on the cool surface, letting the woody smell of the new table sink in—solid teakwood paid for by Allura. It might not fit Pidge's aesthetics but she has zero complaints.

There's no sound from Keith and she turns her head up and stare blearily at the setup on the blackboard.

"What are you doing?" mumbles Pidge, words heavily slurred with sleep.

"Shiro didn't come home last night," says Keith, now sitting on the table and leaning back, propping himself up with his hands. "What about Matt?"

She opens up her laptop and checks the group chat. The last message from Matt was two days ago. She pings him. He's offline. "He's not online now."

He hops off the table and quickly scribbles in ' _Matt is offline_ ' on the piece of scrap paper under the photo with ' _Calls go straight to Shiro's voicemail_ ' already written on it.  
  
"Hey, Keith, buy me coffee," says Pidge.  
  
"It's my off day," says Keith. "Get it yourself."

"It's too early for me to function."

"It's noon," says Keith, flatly.  
  
"I'll pay for your breakfast," offers Pidge.

"But I've already had breakfast," says Keith, slightly confused.

Pidge gives a frustrated whimper and kicks her legs on the floor.

"Fine," sighs Keith, giving in to the Pidge-tantrum. He turns to head out, grabbing his helmet off the couch next to the door on the way. "The usual, right?"

"Remember to get the receipt," reminds Pidge, She plants her face back onto the table as she waves both her hands weakly in grateful worship to her coffee gopher. She watches as Keith pats the sheathed knife hidden under his leather jacket behind him and tugs down the edges of his gloves out of habit before walking out the door.

She takes off her glasses and rubs at her face furiously, making a long, weary, frustrated sound, then puts her glasses back on and takes out her phone, typing in the passcode and furiously tapping at the tiny keyboard.

  
  
**To : Matt <Emergencies Only>**

_'MATT DOLT YOU FLAKEY GERBIL YOU STOP WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING AND CALL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH SHIRO?!?'_

Pidge taps her finger on the table, impatiently waiting for a reply. She's using the emergency channel to contact him, one that will get through no matter what. She's installed a separate microbattery on his phone just for this purpose. Even if his main battery was flat, his phone will start _rickrolling_  him at maximum volume if he doesn't get back to her within a minute.

He sends her a text message of gibberish after a short while, followed by a video call coming through.

" _Look, Shiro, look! My phone is alive,_ " comes Matt's slurred voice over the phone. He sounds giggly. The video is shaky and the background looks dim and noisy. She sees a bar counter and drinks sitting on it. There's some shuffling, and the video shifts.

" _Hi, Pidge,_ " comes Shiro's face and voice on the screen. " _I'm fine and so's Matt. I'm so sorry we didn't inform you of our last minute trip. Please let Keith know I'm fine. He'll probably start looking for me soon._ "

"He's already looking," says Pidge, turning the phone's camera and angling it at the conspiracy board. "And not in a good way. He's really worried."

There's a loud ' _whoop!_ ' coming from Matt and some disgruntled voices behind Shiro. He turns the phone away and Pidge can see a plate of sandwiches on a table as she hears Shiro frantically apologising to the people behind him in Japanese.

"Is my brother...?" asks Pidge.

Shiro turns the phone back to him and she sees a metal arm tightly gripping Matt's. Matt is undeniably drunk.

She makes a frustrated sound and pulls at her hair. "Why are you at a bar? You both know he's a total mess when he drinks."

" _We just came in here to buy some food. I swear on my left arm he didn't drink. I just—We didn't realise there was alcohol in those tourist chocolates he bought at the airport. And he ate the whole box._ "

"You're in a bar buying sandwiches. Matt's drunk on tourist chocolates. You left the country _without telling Keith_."

" _I'm really sorry,_ " says Shiro. " _Please tell Keith not to worry. I'll give him a call later once I get to the hotel._ "

"You know that's not going to work. The _board_  is out. And once it's out, it doesn't go back in until it is _solved_ ," says Pidge, shaking her head grimly. "Keith probably stayed up the whole night trying to contact you because you couldn't even leave a _note_."

" _If you could put him on the phone now—_ "

To prove her point, Pidge turns the phone's camera to the board and zooms in to the notes tacked below the photo. "It's 'Code Alien-Kidnapping'. There's no chance he'll believe it's you unless you're using your own phone."

Shiro rubs his face resignedly, and with sad, kicked-puppy eyes that shows how sorry he is for being an irresponsible adult, he promises Pidge, " _I'll call him as soon as I can."_

Matt is now flush against Shiro, his skinny arms wrapped around his boyfriend's waist and making kissy faces. Pidge is ready to punch her brother in the face.

"I'm sure it's 99.9% Matt's fault," says Pidge, anger giving way to some sympathy as she sees Shiro struggling to deal with her mess of a brother. "I'll do what I can with Keith but I can't promise anything."

" _Thanks, Pidge_ ," says Shiro, his voice laden with immense gratitude.

Pidge huffs and ends the call, not before screencapping a few pictures of them to show Keith later. She doubts this will work to convince Keith of Shiro's safety, but it is better than nothing. She sends out an SOS message to the entire club.

*

"Hey, what's the emergency?" says Lance as he ambles in.

"See for yourself," says Pidge, not looking up from her laptop as she works on tracking down Matt's exact coordinates.

"Sweet mother of sharks, the board is out!"

"Ah!" Hunk bumps into Lance's back, shoving Lance forward. "Don't back up so suddenly!"

"Sorry," says Lance. He forgoes the chairs and pushes them aside in favour of sitting on the table to get a better look at the board.

"Shiro and Matt are missing?" says Hunk, worry in his voice as he scans the board.

"You can't get through to them?" says Lance, quirking a brow as he points out the note under Shiro's photo on the board.

"Shiro just told me they're off somewhere on a vacation. According to the GPS installed on my brother's phone, he should be in..." Pidge trails off as her GPS program blinks error messages at her.

She throws her arms up in exasperation. "Dang it! He broke the tracker again! How the heck does he keep dropping his phone? I swear the next time I see him, he's getting a GPS implant."

"It won't fit," says Hunk, backing away from Pidge. "Even the latest models aren't small enough to be implants. The signal will be too weak and hidden by the skin—"

"Then I'll make it into a collar and biolock it around his neck," hisses Pidge.

"Calm down, Pidgeonator," drawls Lance. "If they're together, they'll be fine."

"I think Pidge is angry, not worried," says Hunk, looking at the cryptic board filled with red letters and coloured strings.

"Why is Keith's board up, though?" Lance wonders aloud. "Did Shiro forget to tell him about his trip? It's not like him to do that."

"I bet it's all my stupid brother's fault," groans Pidge. "He's got the consideration of an amnesiac squirrel."

"So Keith thinks Shiro's missing. We just have to convince him that Shiro's fine, yeah?" says Lance.

"It's not that easy," groans Pidge. "It'll probably take Shiro standing right in front of him before he'll listen to what we tell him."

"What should we do?" asks Hunk.

"We need Shiro to give Keith a call and observe what happens after. I need the both of you on the standby to stop our resident emolord if he's going to do anything rash."

"Is it really that bad?" says Lance, raising a brow. Hunk is puzzled too. "Doesn't he put up boards all the time?"

"That," explains Pidge patiently, pointing to the note on the board with the words ' _Alien Kidnapping_ ' scrawled in a red ink so deep it looks purple.

"He does believes in aliens, though," says Hunk. "It doesn't seem like anything out of the blue."

"Ugh," Pidge gives up. It's way too early still for her to function without her morning coffee. "Just be ready for anything."

  
*

  
"Hey, you're all here," comments Keith as he passes Pidge her coffee.

"I got through to Matt's phone," says Pidge. "Shiro says he'll give you a call later."

"Okay," says Keith. He scribbles down something on a stack of sticky notes and pastes them on the board.

Lance steps in and reads off them.

" _Matt's phone works, Shiro is with Matt._ " He looks to the postscript under the note: " _Could be aliens hacking into Matt's phone. Don't trust anyone._ "

Lance rolls his eyes and turns to Keith.

"Dude," says Lance.

"What?" Keith eyes him back.

"You really think it's aliens?"

"It's possible," says Keith.

"Lance," warns Pidge. "Don't."

"But he's—"

Keith's phone vibrates and he looks at the caller ID.

"That Shiro?" asks Pidge.

Keith shrugs and puts the phone to speaker. The rest of them crowd around him to listen.

" _Keith?_ "

"Yeah?" says Keith, his tone wary.

They listen to a whole minute of Shiro apologising profusely and explaining how he wanted to inform Keith of his trip but couldn't. He rambles on, promising Keith he is fine and he'll call every day. Keith hums monotonously in acknowledgement as if simply going through the motion.

After he hangs up the call, Keith says with utmost certainty.

"That's not Shiro."

"Why do you say that?" asks Hunk.

"He didn't tell me he was going on a trip," says Keith.

Pidge sighs. She knows it isn't going to be that easy. Shiro made a irrevocable mistake the moment he didn't tell Keith he was leaving the country.

"But he just called you. We—all of us heard him telling you where he is!" argues Lance.

"We've only heard his voice. We can't be sure," says Keith adamantly.

"I've got a photo," says Pidge, showing them the photo she captured of them earlier.

"It looks dark," comments Hunk as he peers over at her phone. "They look like they're...in a bar or something?"

"Matt looks totally sloshed," says Lance. "How long ago was this?"

"About an hour ago," says Pidge. "I managed to get through to Matt's phone."

"Hmm," says Keith, thoughtful.

"I'll forward it to you," says Pidge, tapping at her phone.

"Thanks," says Keith, looking at the photo he just received and scrutinising it at different angles.

"We should wait for more updates from them. There's nothing we can do without further information," suggests Pidge, her eyes on Keith sternly. "That means no rash actions."

Keith nods.

Hunk watches in amazement at how Pidge can get Keith to listen to her.

Keith goes back to working on his board, embellishing it with more notes and articles while the rest of them settle into their usual routine: Hunk and Lance working on their college assignments and Pidge doing quiznak-knows-what on her laptop.  


*  


The day ends without much event. Lance sends his assignment to the clubroom's printer's queue and stretches, his neck and shoulders sore from sitting for hours.

"Ugh, I'm so not used to these," mutters Lance as he takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"You could get contacts," suggests Hunk.

"I only need glasses when I'm studying," says Lance, standing up and stretching his limbs out like a cat. Looking at the printing queue, it's probably a good ten minutes before it gets to his document.

Keith is waiting at the printer, a stack of papers already in his arms.

"Hey," sighs Lance as he walks over and hops up to perch on the cabinets along the windows. The printer sitting next to him continues to rumble and churn out article after article. "Don't worry so much about Shiro, all right? He's a grown man. He can take care of himself."

Keith looks up from his articles and shakes his head at Lance.

"But aliens," says Keith, like it's all the explanation Lance needs.

"What about the evidence?" reasons Lance. "He just called you."

"Voice modulator," says Keith. "That could be anyone."

"Voice modulators don't work that way," says Lance.

"Alien voice modulators," says Keith.

"Fine! What about the photo Pidge took? She's got no reason to fool you, right?"

"Video or photo manipulation. Aliens could probably do that," says Keith.

Pidge finally chips in, "I don't think aliens know human tech that well. Cameras are too low-tech for them. I'd say it's someone who needs to hide their involvement. Maybe an _organisation_."

"Pidge!" admonishes Lance, feeling betrayed that Pidge is playing along with Keith.

"That's possible," agrees Keith, getting more worked up and eager. "There's only one organisation that needs to hide extraterrestrial involvement from the public. And we know they've been doing it for years, and that's—" Pidge joins him and they say, in unison, in a way too enthusiastic, cheerful tone—"the _government!_."

"No, Pidge, not the government!" cries Hunk.

"That makes perfect sense," says Keith, nodding to Pidge's thumbs-up.

"Oh my quiznak it doesn't," groans Lance. "You're not—" a sharp kick to his calf interrupts him—"Ow! What did you do that for, Pidge?"

Pidge's narrowed hazel eyes and furrowed brows are trying hard to tell him something but Lance isn't getting it.

Keith turns to Lance. "It's okay if you don't believe me. I need to find Shiro."

"Oh, come on," says Lance, throwing his arms in the air. "Everyone's telling you Shiro is fine. _Shiro_  is telling you he's fine. Why don't you just chill out?"

"He didn't tell me before he left," says Keith, agitation working into his voice. "He never does that."

"Well, he made a mistake. He called you to apologise, didn't he? Why don't you stop being so dramatic about it?" says Lance. Keith's attitude is infecting him. He's tired from a morning of being picked on by professor Iverson and has a headache from wearing his glasses too long. He just wants his document printed and Keith is using up clubroom resources with this _nonsense_.

Hunk's eyes widen at his buddy's harsh choice of words and hastily makes his way over.

"Hey, man—" tries Hunk.  
  
Keith's growling retort cuts his attempt off. "I'm just being realistic here. It's possible that—"

Lance hops off the cabinet and stands chest to chest with Keith. "Being kidnapped by aliens is like, the furthest thing from reality! Just stop your stupid conspiracy games already!"

"Lance, you're probably tired and hungry, so—" says Hunk, hands held up placatingly as his anxious voice is drowned out.

"It's not a game!" roars Keith, refusing to back away.

"Then what is it?" yells Lance, feeling the blood draining from his fingers and rushing to his head, throbbing and angry. "Why are you so hellbent on insisting that Shiro's missing when he's fine?!"

"Because the last time he went missing, he _lost an arm_!" Keith yells back, his voice cracking with anger. He throws down his markers on the table. He tears down the papers from board, gathers them in his arms and heads to the door, grabbing his helmet from the couch on the way.

Pidge stands up abruptly and asks after him, "Where are you going?"

"To look for Shiro," growls Keith as he slams the door behind him.

Pidge turns to Lance.

"What?" retorts Lance, throwing up his hands. "I'm just telling him the truth! Why are _you_  playing along with his stupid game anyway?"

"You did something horrible just now and I'm going to tell you why," says Pidge.

"Spell it out for me," says Lance, leaning against the ruined board and curling his fingers towards himself in an invitation to whatever Pidge can say in Keith's defense.

"You know Shiro and Keith are like brothers, yes?" says Pidge. Hunk stands near the edge of the table, fiddling his thumbs as he listens intently and nods at Pidge's question.

"Yeah?" says Lance. "I get that he's worried about Shiro, but he—"

Pidge hisses, cutting him off.  
  
"You don't get it at all. Listen. It's not his fault he's this way."

Lance purses his lips and keeps his words to himself.

"Remember I told you that Shiro and Matt once got dispatched on some secret mission? The one that lasted a year?" says Pidge.

"What about that?" asks Lance.

"Keith was at a boot camp out of town when Shiro left," says Pidge.

"So...you mean he wasn't informed of Shiro's departure?"

Pidge nods grimly.

"No one told him? At all? For a whole _year_?" gasps Hunk, his hands flying to his mouth and covering it in disbelief.

Lance pales. If one of his folks just up and disappeared on him without a word for a year...

Matt's, uh, your family didn't tell him either?" asks Hunk.

"We didn't even know about him then," says Pidge. "By the time we realised he wasn't told, he'd disappeared."

"Was that's why he dropped out of the Garrison program?" gasps Hunk. "I mean, I heard the rumours, but..."

"Get the rest of the story from him. It's not mine to tell," says Pidge, pinching her brows.

Lance feels like a stone is tied to his ankle and he's sinking in guilt, but there's still one niggling question at the forefront of his mind and he blurts out, "What has that got to do with aliens?"

"Not my story," repeats Pidge. "I've already said too much."

"I'm sure he's got a good reason for that," says Hunk, glancing to the door, his brows furrowed in worry.

"Cheeses," curses Lance. "I really screwed up back there, didn't I?"

"Yep."

"Not helping, Pidge," says Hunk. "Maybe we should go after him and apologise?"

"We don't even know where he is," groans Lance. "He's got a bike. He could be miles away from here now!"

"Why don't you eat something then give him a call?" suggests Hunk. "I think he needs to calm down as much as you do."

"Yeah. I'll do that. Thanks, buddy," says Lance as he lets Hunk give him a soul-comforting hug.

  
*

The sun's setting and the desert is a dark, unforgiving place to be driving in. Lance curses as the jeep runs over another pothole.

Keith sounded more tired than angry over the phone and let slip he was hungry, so now Lance is driving a whole hour out of town with a big bag of fastfood takeout riding shotgun. As he runs over yet another pothole in the poorly-lit dirt road, he's glad he had the foresight to ditch the flimsy cups of soft drinks for bottled water.

Pidge passed him the keys to the club's shared jeep and gave him directions to where Keith is.

Lance has heard of the infamous ' _desert shack_ ' from some of Keith's usual rants about cryptid-hunting, but knowing it truly exists makes his stomach sink in dread.

_How many times in the past months has he dismissed whatever Keith said as pure fantasy?_

_Is he so caught up trying to prove Keith wrong that he's just as in denial about reality?_

He told Hunk to stay, saying it's his problem to fix and Hunk totally _mothered_  him, making sure the jeep had a full tank and that Lance has at least two powerbanks and cables for his phone.

Pidge warned him not to 'pull a Shiro' on them and he knew Pidge wasn't angry at him anymore.

All that's left is Keith.

He pulls the jeep up near a shed where he sees Keith's red bike leaning against. His knuckles hurt as he hops up the veranda and raps on the sturdy, wooden door. There is barely any light outside the shack now the sun's set. He looks out into the desert and he can see the skyline of lit buildings in the direction where he came from; all else is dark and boundless sand. It looks almost surreal. A chair on the porch makes him wonder if Keith sat there sometimes, staring out into the open desert.  


Out here, he feels like it doesn't seem so hard to believe in cryptids and aliens.  


The door creaks open and Keith looks at him wearily. His dark hair looks dishevelled and a reddened patch on his cheek suggests he might have accidentally fallen asleep with his face on a table.

"Hey," greets Lance sheepishly as he holds up the large bag of fast food. "Delivery for a Mr Keith Kogane?"

Keith's lips quirks a smile and he waves him in.  
  
  


The inside looks much better than it appears on the outside. The lights are warm and there's a faint hum of machinery running. The smell of the desert is here too—musty earth and something sweet. A thin curtain hangs over the closed windows, half draped over a sofa.

It looks lived in.

"Umm," begins Keith, scratching the back of his neck as he closes the door to keep the rapidly cooling air out, "it's not much, but feel free to use the couch, and uh—" he looks around for the areas not crowded by books and racks of machinery— "the table, I guess."

"Sure," says Lance, setting the food on the coffee table, which is just a board propped up by bricks. Is that a stack of books functioning as one of its legs? He bends down and looks at the dusty spines. He recognises a few of them as old high school textbooks and gives an amused snort. There's a good use for those if he ever saw one.

"Nice shack you have here," says Lance, taking a seat on the couch and waving towards the general setup.

"Thanks?" shrugs Keith. He gravitates towards the food and digs out a chicken burger, hastily unwrapping and taking a big bite out of it.

"Guess you were hungry, huh," says Lance, tearing the paper bag open to use as a placemat for the fries.

"Yeah," Keith admits easily. "Canned food sucks."

"And fast food is somehow...better?" says Lance, raising a brow. Keith ignores him in favour of chowing down the food and licking the sauce off his fingers.

Lance leans back and takes in the details of the shack. The clubroom's conspiracy board has relocated itself onto a huge wall-to-wall corkboard. It's filled to the brim, pinned with articles and hand-written notes. There's a stack of papers on the table in front of him filled with formulas and calculations. He snorts at the pages of scratched out errors. Keith's kind of sloppy when it comes to numbers. Not everyone's Hunk or Pidge after all.

They had taken the same astronomy class in the beginning of their first year and Lance can still remember that constant frustrated pout on Keith's his face when working on his calculations. So why is he doing _math_  like his life depended on it—

The realisation hits Lance like a splash of cold water and everything seems to make sense now.  
  
Why would Keith write out pages and pages of calculations based on a far-fetched, improbable idea that Shiro was kidnapped by aliens? Why is he searching so hard? Is it even about the aliens anymore?

Lance finally solves the link between that and the conspiracy board.

Keith is _worried_.

Lance knew that from the beginning, but only now does it register in his mind what that really means.

Keith is simply doing _something_ because it's so much better than the alternative—to sit and do _nothing_.

So this was why Pidge played along with Keith and veered him towards the topic of government conspiracies. She did it to take his mind off Shiro being missing. She was _distracting_ him.

Lance knows the only way to apologise and make this right is to pick up where Pidge left off. Keith needs a distraction and looking at how tired he is, he needs it _now_.

  
"So, uh, whatcha doing?" shrugs Lance, sounding as casual as he can.

"Look for alien landing patterns. This desert is a hotspot for them," says Keith. The meal helped for maybe like five minutes before he's back to being half-dead on his feet.

"Cool," says Lance. "I've said it over the phone, but I'll say it again. Sorry about back there, man. I didn't mean to blow up on you."

"It's okay," says Keith, pulling out his phone and checking it. "I don't expect you to believe."

"Even if he's kidnapped, I'm sure Shiro won't want you to worry," says Lance.

Keith takes his time to ponder Lance's words for a while, and nods resignedly.

"You're right," admits Keith.

"So, how about we call it a night and continue searching tomorrow?"

"Okay," says Keith, almost too easily. He cocks his head at Lance and asks, "Are you going back or staying?"

"I can stay?"

"Sure?"

"I'd prefer that to driving in the cold and dark desert," says Lance. "Lend me your couch?"

"I don't have spare blankets. We can just share the bed. It's big enough," says Keith.

"Okay, cool," says Lance, hopping to his feet and rubbing his hands together nervously. What's a little bed-sharing between friends, right? He shares with Hunk sometimes. It's no big deal. So...does that mean he's friends with Keith now?

"It's only as awkward as you think it is," mutters Lance to himself as he quickly washes up in the bathroom.  


"Over here," beckons Keith from the bedroom as he shifts a few things around to clear more space. "You take the left."

"Sure," stutters Lance as he stares at the generously sized double. He rubs his hands against his jacket and bites his lips.

"Are you cold?" asks Keith.

"Um, maybe?" says Lance.

Keith pulls out a portable heater from under the bed, plugs it in and places it next to the left of the bed. Then he pulls off his boots and jacket and waits for Lance to get in.

Lance follows his lead, taking off his shoes and dives under the thick comforter. The bed feels clean enough. He hears a click and the room is dark save for the soft moonlight coming through a thinly-curtained window.

"So...you come here often?" says Lance.

"Maybe once or twice a month," mumbles Keith as he slides under the bedcovers and drops his head on the pillow.

Lance has a lot of questions, but he knows it can wait. They are tired and nothing good comes out of talking when they're both exhausted. He settles for a quick, "Thanks for the heater" and Keith just hums in acknowledgement.

The bed has plenty of space. Lance snuggles under the blankets, listening to the steady hum of the heater, an occasional creaking of a pipe. The sound of Keith's quiet breathing next to him is strangely calming and he drowses off to sleep easily.

The next thing he knows is being abruptly woken by Keith's phone vibrating next to his pillow. Groaning, he turns over and gives the sleeping boy a shove. It's not even sunrise yet.

Keith groans too and slaps his hand over his phone, bringing it to his face and squinting at it. A few seconds later, he throws off his covers, flicks the light on and begins pulling on his jacket and boots.

"What are you doing?" groans Lance, burying his face deeper into the pillow as the light stings his sensitive eyes.

"Shiro texted that Matt's uploaded photos on his Facebook. They're at Tokyo Disneyland," says Keith.

"Awesome," mumbles Lance, his voice still thick with sleep. He digs his phone out from under the pillow and looks at it. "It's barely four in the morning. Can we go back to sleep?"

"You go ahead," says Keith. "I'm going after Shiro."

Lance is immediately sober and he scrambles across the bed. "Wait, you can't be serious! He's all the way in Japan!"

"So?"

"That's—that's really far!"

"Then I don't have time to lose," says Keith, pulling out a duffel bag.

"Do you even have the money for an air ticket?"

"I'll figure something out," shrugs Keith.

"Keith, buddy," says Lance, trying to think what Pidge would say in this situation. He blurts out, "Intel before action!"

Keith pauses and Lance takes the chance to tug at his sleeve, pulling him over to sit on the bed. Sitting is good. Maybe he'll be less impulsive in a comfortable position.

"Let's check out those photos first, okay?" he suggests.

Keith grabs his phone and opens the page, scrolling through Facebook until he comes across a photo of Shiro and Matt posing in front of a ride.

Lance shakes his head at their terrible taste in shirts as he taps on the photos and reads the accompanying captions. "' _Amazing day so far! No aliens so far tho :( Wish we could stay longer but we'll be catching a flight to Hong Kong tomorrow! #Disneyland #Honeymooners #Matt &Glosshiro #Otpaper_'," says Lance, cringing as he reads out the tags.

"I don't understand the last two tags," says Keith.

"Nevermind that," says Lance. "They're going to Hong Kong."

"Okay, so that means I should wait for them there," says Keith, his shoulders a little looser now he's given more time. "Thanks, Lance."

"No problem," says Lance. Keith is listening, so he just needs a little more convincing. "It looks like they're making their way around the world so we need their exact locations, yeah?"

Keith blinks at him and gives him a hesitant nod. Lance can work with that. He'll make Pidge and Hunk proud of him. Shiro and Matt will thank him for his service when they return. He will be the hero that saves the day.

"Shiro promised to update you daily—" Lance falters as Keith eyes him and he corrects himself— "Fine, _Shiro-who-may-not-be-Shiro_. Pidge is working on tracking them down. Matt posted on Facebook saying he'll put up more photos tomorrow. They're moving around a lot, aren't they?"

"Hmm," mulls Keith. "Maybe by the time I get to Hong Kong, they'll be somewhere else."

"Exactly!" says Lance, trying not to let his excitement get the better of him; the battle is not yet won. "Why not let Pidge track them and see if they're telling the truth as to where they are, and once they're close enough for a domestic flight, we'll go catch them?"

Keith carefully considers it and slowly concedes, "That's...a pretty good plan."

"Yes!" says Lance, a little too celebratory. He coughs to hide his victory.

Keith shrugs off his boots and turns off the light. A second later, Lance feels a warm hand pressing against his shoulder and he topples over back onto the bed. He hears a grunt near his arm and feels Keith pressing his back insistently against him and realises that under the jacket, the dark-haired boy's shoulders are narrower than his own. He feels the urge to wrap his arms around them but instead pushes against them.

"Woah, what are you doing?" he chokes out, flustered.

"Move over," says Keith, lazily pushing at Lance's collar with his head as he gives a yawn. "I'm going back to sleep. It's way too early for shit."

It takes much longer for Lance to fall asleep this time.

*

As Lance wakes, he sees the shadow the curtain casts on the door turn into a man walking into the room. He recognises him as the same man in a photo he saw pinned on the side of the corkboard. The man smiles fondly at Keith, then gives him a knowing look before walking out. His sleep-addled brain finally wakes up and he stares at the shadow. He knows it's just a hallucination but he can't help feeling safe and watched over in this room.  


*

Lance has a great idea to keep Keith thoroughly distracted for the rest of the day.

"I say the government did it! Aliens can't photoshop for nuts," taunts Lance.

"They can. Anyone can learn to photoshop," growls Keith.

"Oh yeah? Prove it," says Lance, pulling up the photo of Matt and Shiro in Disneyland. "Photoshop this."

They spend the next hour sitting next to each other at their laptops photoshopping Matt and Shiro into different backgrounds.

"What is that?" asks Keith as he peers over and sees Lance airbrushing a stock picture of a rocket pink. "That looks like a dick."

"Psshhh," huffs Lance. "It's not just any dick. It's a dick _rocket_. My aliens have taste, okay."

"Do not," Keith huffs back, showing off his work to Lance. He's photoshopped in a picture of a row of hippo butts looming over a moustached Shiro and Matt. "Big butts are better."

Lance slaps Keith's arm as he laughs uncontrollably. "Oh snap, those butts are _huge!_."

"Hmm, your dick's not so bad. Wanna call it a draw?" says Keith, beaming back at him so brightly that Lance can only stare, his brain no longer registering words after hearing the words ' _your dick_ ' coming out from that smiling face. He can't help it, all right? He's nineteen and no one's said those words to him with a smile before. Maybe he's fantasized about it but holy—this is really happening.

Keith's smile is a mix of cocky, shy and awkward and is that a dimple on his cheek?

"Sure," squeaks Lance and he can't stop staring.

Keith is staring back. He blinks. And licks his lips.

"Good news," interrupts Pidge. They snap out of it and turn to her. Pidge leans an elbow on the table and announces, "They're coming back tomorrow."

"That soon?" gasps Lance. "How?"

"Allura," says Pidge like it's all the explanation they need. And it is.

"See? It's gonna turn out just fine," says Lance, turning back to smile at Keith. "Now we just sit tight and wait."

The dark-haired boy smiles back, a brighter one than before— _how is this possible_ —and Lance knows he is falling so hard for Keith Kogane and will never be able to get back on his feet.

  
*

"Special delivery for the SPACE club!" chirps Coran as Allura walks in with Shiro and Matt behind her looking somewhat subdued.

"Hello, cadets," says Allura, wearing her usual blue Altean-styled dress, which means she probably came from work.

Hunk, Keith, Pidge and Lance wave at her, greeting her around their mouths full of cookies.

"Hey, guys, sorry for all the trouble," says Shiro, stepping out of Allura's shadow.

"No trouble for me, but you really gotta make it up to this guy here," says Pidge, jerking her thumb at Keith, who's shifting on his feet as he observes the scene intently.

"Hey, Keith," says Shiro, walking over.

Keith wipes cookie crumbs from his lips and narrows his eyes at Shiro. "Hi."

"I'm not brainwashed, an alien, or a clone," says Shiro, holding his hands up to his chest, palms facing out in surrender.

"Prove it," says Keith, his voice a little harsher than he intends, and Shiro cringes.

"Ummm..." says Shiro as he thinks hard on how to prove his humanity. "A little help, guys?"

"Do a captcha?" suggests Lance.

"That only proves he's not a robot," says Keith.

Pidge snorts cookie crumbs through her nose. Lance pats her on the back as she coughs.

"Cookie? Can't think on an empty stomach," offers Hunk.

"Thanks," says Shiro as he takes one and pops it in his mouth. They all have a feeling it's going to take a while.

"Oh, I got one," chuckles Lance, thinking he should start with a classic to make 'em all groan. "Hey, Space Dad, I'm hungry!"

Shiro knows the standard answer to that one and levels his eyes at Lance. "Hi, Hungry, I'm Space Dad," he says flatly.

"Okay, I guess you're the real deal," says Keith, his posture relaxing as his guard melts away. He walks over to Shiro and opens his arms. Shiro quickly hugs him before he changes his mind.

Hunk drops his cookie.

"WHAT?" Lance turns his head to Keith so fast he almost sprains his neck. "Seriously?! That's all it takes? A terrible dad joke?"

"Gah!" says Pidge, burying her face in the arms on the table. "If we knew that's all it took, we could've just gotten Shiro to do that in the first place!"

"Well then," says Coran, hands on his hips looking proud of a job well done. "Now that that's settled, we should take our leave within the hour."

"That soon?" says Hunk, looking disappointed. "I thought we could go have a nice dinner together."

"Sorry, Hunk," says Allura. "Work beckons."

"What about my reading?" bemoans Matt. "You said I'll be meeting tall, dark strangers this month!"

"Which is why the both of you shall be coming along to the annual Altean Alliance meeting with me as bodyguards," says Allura, her voice allowing for no disagreement.

Matt's shoulders slumped. He knows from experience that Altean meetings can go on for _weeks_.

"Don't feel too bad," consoles Shiro, wrapping an arm around Matt's shoulder and pulling him close. "At least we'll be together."

"Shiro, I'm sorry to say you'll be with me while Matt will be in charge of the Altean scientists studying some ice they found on Mars," says Allura.

"MARTIAN ICE," says Matt, leaving Shiro's embrace without hesitation and bombarding Allura with questions.

"Congrats, Matt," chuckles Lance.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Space Dad," snarks Pidge.

Shiro shakes his head and chuckles at his obsessed boyfriend. He walks over to Keith and claps a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Hey, I'm really sorry I left without telling you," says Shiro.

"I'm just glad you're okay," says Keith.

"Let me know how I can make it up to you, okay?" offers Shiro.

Keith lights up as he recalls something. He pulls Shiro over to his laptop and fires it up.

"Come here, I need you to look at this and tell Lance that big butts are way better than a pink dick rocket."

Shiro looks at Keith, then Lance, then Keith again, and then Lance once more for good measure.

"Lance," whispers Shiro, his turn to worry. "What in the universe happened here while I was gone?"

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> This fic began after [@tinybirdfarts](http://tinybirdfarts.tumblr.com) drew an amazing art of an occult au!voltron [HERE](http://tinybirdfarts.tumblr.com/post/161428323651) and I really wanna write about the team being a club of sorts doing things involving all that! 
> 
> So here it is, a fic about what the Supernatural, Paranormal, Aliens and Conspiracies Exploration (SPACE) club gets up to. It'll be a series of one-shots and may not be in chronological order~
> 
> It's hard to describe what this fic's about so I'm gonna just let it speak for itself...
> 
> As usual, gonna leave this for a bit and come back to it to edit later! (i edited for like 9 hours straight today it's only 7k words why am I so SLOW orz i literally take 100x longer than any other writer WHY i write maybe like 500 words a day and it takes hours sobs)
> 
> If you liked it, feel free to look for me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/amarukei) or [tumblr](http://amarukei.tumblr.com) ((or buy me a [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A324KTL) if you're feeling generous and wanna make me feel like i can write fics foreverrr XD))


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